Fallen Angel by K. S. Thomas Read Free Book Online Page A

calling it a temporary truce.
    By the time we walk out of IHOP, the dinner crew is starting to show up for their shift. Which wouldn’t be a big deal, except it turns out, we know one of the cooks.
    “Angel?”
    “Shit.” Angel takes one look at the guy and starts to hurry me along back to his car.
    “What? You can’t even say hello to your old man?” he calls after us. “That’s okay. I’d be in a hurry too if I had a fine looking piece of ass like that to tend to.”
    Angel freezes. “Here.” He holds his keys out toward me. “Go get in the car.”
    “What are you going to do?” And, also, there’s no fucking way I’m getting in the car.
    “Going to say hi to my dad.” He glares in the man’s direction. Moe Hollis.
    It’s always been common knowledge around the old neighborhood that Moe knocked up Angelica Price when he was twenty-seven and she was only fourteen. Memomma had been the first one to whoop his ass for it and had even told the Prices to press charges more than once, but they weren’t exactly stellar parents, so they dropped the ball on things, much like they had on everything else in Angelica’s life.
    I guess it wasn’t much of a shocker to anyone, when she up and took off with some new loser who was rumored to be her pimp when Angel was only three. As far as I know, he’s never seen her since and Memomma raised him from that day forward.
    Aside from being a top of the line pervert, Moe was also a shit father and a despicable son, but then Memomma always said his own father hadn’t been much better. I think on some level, Angel believes that shit’s hereditary because of it. Like maybe that’s the reason he’s such a player. I mean, I get it. If the pussy’s there, no guy in his right mind would turn it down, but still. According to Ava, it’s like he flat-out refuses to share anything beyond the physical with any woman he ever meets. And most days, I can’t decide if that makes me feel better or worse about my feelings for him.
    “I don’t think this is a good idea, Angel.” I tug at his sleeve to get his attention, but there’s no swaying his gaze from Moe, who clearly lacks all judgement and common sense since he’s started walking toward us.
    “Guess your woman doesn’t listen very well.” He licks his lips and leers at me. I swear my skin just jumped off my flesh and made a run for it. And I still feel dirty.
    “Bam Bam, go.” His eyes finally break away from his father to find mine. “Please.”
    “Come with me.” I glide my hand down his sleeve until my fingers link into his. “What good will talking do? You know you can’t reason with him.”
    I can tell Angel is about to agree when Moe opens his fucking mouth again.
    “That’s the problem with the young ones. They still need to be taught some manners and how to listen.” He laughs, and the rasp from years of smoking scratches my insides in the most disgusting way. “I get it though. I like ‘em young, too. Guess it’s true what they say. Like father, like son.”
    He’s still laughing, his eyes running in circles between my boobs and my ass when Angel charges at him, punching him right in the face.
    In a panic, I reach in between them trying to stop Angel from beating the shit out of his own father, but when a misplaced fist from Moe lands on my jaw, things go from bad to worse in an instant.
    Every second that follows moves in a blur. Donna running outside, screaming. Some patrons in the parking lot calling 911 on their cell phones while others are just recording the whole sordid incident. The paparazzi crashing onto the scene before the officials. The blue and red flashing lights. Sirens.
    It takes four cops to pull them apart and Moe’s in rough shape when they do. Angel’s got a busted lip and he keeps moving his arm back and forth like he’s trying to stretch something that feels out of whack. I’m freaking out. People are asking me all kinds of questions and I don’t have the answers.